


Olive Branches

by mansikka



Series: Olive Branches [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Magnus is preparing for a weekend away with Alec when he has a surprise visitor.





	Olive Branches

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)
> 
> Confession time; I haven't been the biggest fan of Maryse until recently. This was my way of making up for that - or at least, something I'd like to see.
> 
> Enjoy?
> 
> x

There’s a flutter in his stomach that Magnus swears only started making an appearance the first time Alec smiled back at him. That blushing, stuttering reply when he’d first introduced himself, had been very much like flicking a switch. He hadn’t meant to let him in, hadn’t meant to do anything more than admire the view. And now look where he’s got himself, Magnus thinks with a rueful, though pleased laugh.

But what a view it is, Magnus grins harder to himself as he takes out the last pile of clothes he’d carefully laid in his bag, having decided on an entirely different wardrobe. His eyes linger beyond the corner of the bed where the bag is perched to the sheets beneath it, picturing Alec spread out there with his head arched back, and it’s several minutes later when he realizes he’s still staring, looking down at the pile of clothes in his hands and carefully putting them back in the bag.

No, he thinks, spinning on his heel and heading for the bathroom to pack up a bag of toiletries, Alec has very definitely switched something in him, meaning he noticed beyond the attractions that are his face, eyes, and body, and saw all the other beautiful things inside. Caring, and compassion, a willingness to listen like no other Shadowhunter ever had, as good examples.  

Aside from Izzy of course, Magnus amends to himself with a smile for his second favorite Lightwood, who’s proved herself over and over to be a friend to the Downworld, someone who considers everyone her equal no matter what.  

Jace is a different matter, of course, Magnus thinks, the smile turning a little more rueful as he snatches up his toiletries bag and carries it back through to the bedroom to throw in his favorite kohl and the eyeshadow Alec always seems to approve most of seeing. He pauses with his finger on his lip and pivots, trying to think if there’s anything else he wants to take with him, then decides to stop over-planning and just take what he already has.

Jace, he thinks, going back to his previous musings, has his grudging respect on occasion, but he’s more than happy to feign constant disdain in his company, even if it is just to get a rise. That the man would show up at his apartment, interrupt a really, really important conversation—and kiss that he and Alec were sharing—and then give him the shovel talk as though he hadn’t been welcomed in and given free food and lodgings for an indefinite period, still goads him a little all this time later.  

The _nerve_ , Magnus huffs to himself, though softens, because Jace isn’t that bad really, and besides, anything that makes Alec happy makes _him_ happy; even if it means a certain cocky blond Shadowhunter loping around his living room and defiling his spare room.

Magnus rolls his eyes at the memory and allows it to morph into a laugh, then checks the time on his phone and tells himself not to will it to go faster.

Alec has other qualities that have captured Magnus’ attention, of course, beyond his physical features and character traits unheard of in most Shadowhunters. Alec _cares_ about him, thinks of him constantly, knows from just sharing the same air as Magnus when he needs a hug, a kiss, or even just an ear to tell about his day. Alec _loves_ him, and to know that beyond any doubt is such a rewarding, comforting feeling, Magnus finds himself grounded by it, heartened even when in his darkest of moods.

Even just standing there in the middle of his apartment with one shoe in his hand, the other already in the bag he’s slotting them into as he’s packing, and a single thought of Alec has him stupefied, smiling to himself for no other reason than thinking of _his_ smile.

Magnus groans to himself then, imagines all the teasing Catarina and Ragnor would have for him were they to see him like this, and returns to the bedroom, zipping up his bag with a sense of finality, and feeling his stomach flip with excitement all over again.

He and Alec have an entire weekend to themselves. It’s the first one they’ve had the chance for since their _fights_ , and though they’ve talked through most of the problems that had led them to those fights in the first place and are now stronger than ever, Magnus can’t wait to get him alone—and away, where it’s just the two of them, where if anyone truly, really, honestly desperately needs them, then there’s at least the buffer of a phone call and a portal in the way. He needs this, Magnus thinks, _they_ need this. He can’t wait to see the weight of the Institute lift from Alec’s shoulders for at least a couple of days.

And feel his skin on his, Magnus adds to himself with another smile, humming at the thought of spending several long, languid hours in bed with nothing between them and nowhere else to be.

Alec said he’d send a message when he was finished, and though they both know he’ll never get out of the Institute what can be considered _on time_ , Alec is just as eager to get away as he is. So he’s promised himself, and Magnus of course, that he won’t get dragged into additional duties. He’ll tie up any loose ends he has to, and then message to say he’s on his way over.

Magnus is planning on offering him a portal to speed things up, and from the heated look on Alec’s face this morning before he’d left, Magnus can’t see him turning it down. The sooner he gets here, the sooner they can get away, and then—

A knock on his door interrupts his thoughts from spiraling into some very interesting ideas for their evening, and Magnus beams as he walks across the apartment, thinking Alec must have finished early and decided to walk over.

Perhaps he’s brought him flowers, Magnus adds to himself, remembering the first time he’d done it, his cheeks the most adorable shade of blush as he’d handed them over.  

Magnus swings the door open wide and enthusiastically, a teasing greeting prepared on his tongue, and feels his stomach turn to ice, the words stolen from his lips, his heart giving a hard, uncomfortable thud.

“Maryse,”

Alec’s mother stands awkwardly in the doorway staring back at him, her shoulders poised in that composed, authoritative way of hers, and Magnus has to consciously tell himself not to step backwards and slam the door in her face.

“Magnus,” she says, her lips twisting up into an awkward half-smile, as though she’s forgotten how to.

“What a… lovely surprise,” he bites out, wishing he could keep his tone light, fake enthusiasm for seeing her there and having her ruin his good mood. But then his heart begins to pound in fear, and a sick feeling starts to rise up in his throat, and—"Is Alec okay?”

Maryse’s eyes widen in surprise and her mouth drops open a little, but then she’s reining it in and composing herself, giving a stiff nod—even smiling a little fuller with what he _thinks_ is affection. “Alec is fine. I am sure he will be ready for your… weekend away, very soon. He was almost finished when I left,”

“He told you,” Magnus says, though it’s not really a surprise. Alec’s never made a secret of all the time they spend together, proud of Magnus and all that he is without ever showing a second of hesitation. The thought makes him smile, and threatens to take his attention.

“Of course,” she replies with another half-smile. There is a moment of hesitation, and then she’s trying a little harder, adding, “he’s… looking forward to it,”

Magnus holds back a sarcastic retort—barely, then steps back and clears his throat. “Would you like to come in?”

He’s half-hoping she says no, already fantasizing again about slamming the door in her face, but then she’s nodding uncertainly, and stepping through, politely standing to one side until he closes the door and gestures towards the couches; in sharp contrast to the way she’d barged in here for Max’s rune ceremony and looked down her nose at him.

He knows that look. He’s received that look a thousand times, and for every time he’s told himself he isn’t wounded for it, he’s told himself another lie. To receive it from Alec’s own mother, even if he had expected it, had kept him awake several nights. Not that anyone knows that, of course.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he says, already turning to move away. He thinks of making some obscenely alcoholic cocktail and gulping it down right in front of her to prove right all the things she thinks about him, but then scolds himself for being so childish.

“I hear you… Alec says that you like tea,”

Does he, now, Magnus thinks to himself, not sure why he’s never imagined his name cropping up in conversations between Alec and his mother, but the idea sitting heavy on his stomach for all the things about him she probably disdains.

“I do,” he says anyway, and gestures towards the kitchen, thinking for a few minutes of reprieve. She follows him of course, watching every move he makes as he goes about preparing a teapot and sacrificing his favorite tea leaves for this woman who loathes him, yet gifted him by giving birth to her son. It’s a complicated paradox he doesn’t miss the irony of.

“I never took the time to tell you before, but you have a beautiful home,”  

Magnus turns just enough to watch Maryse’s eyes darting about from where she’s stood a little stiffly in front of one of his counters, a genuine though small smile on her face, as though she approves of what she sees.

“Thank you,”

“I can see why Alec enjoys sharing it with you,” she adds, that smile widening and softening at the same time, and Magnus nearly drops the cup he’s putting on a tray; was that just an olive branch of acceptance? Approval, even?  

“How’s Max doing?” he blurts out, desperate for something to say. He already knows a good amount from Alec, of course, but if he can steer their conversation towards more neutral subjects, then they both might get out of this alive—or at least hold off on a shouting match until Alec arrives to referee.  

“Max is fine,” she smiles, another genuinely warm one, reaching all the way up to brighten her eyes, “he’s thriving. No doubt driving his instructors insane for his impatience to be _out there_. I’m fairly certain that is a trait he learned entirely from Jace,”

Magnus bites back another retort and just nods, busying himself with unnecessarily straightening up their cups on the tray.

“You have done so much for Max,” Maryse adds then, softer than he thinks she’s ever spoken to him, “his party here. At the Institute when he was… injured,”

“Max is a wonderful young man,” Magnus smiles, seeing the potential in him to grow up into something special if he’s got the influence of Izzy and Alec to guide him. And Jace, he adds reluctantly, smiling to himself.  

“You have been so kind to him,” she says, stepping closer, and Magnus feels crowded in a way he wants to charge out of, but merely begins to turn on his heel, and offers up a smile.

“He’s more than welcome,”

“I would like to thank you for that—belatedly,” Maryse tells him, her eyes boring into him and freezing him to the spot.

“I—”

“And that you allowed Jace to stay here when things were… problematic,” she continues, and this time Magnus can’t hold back his derisive snort. That she could reduce what was little short of a witch hunt for Jace, one that very nearly resulted in him losing Alec altogether, shoots fury through his veins.

“Tea’s ready,” he announces, speeding the boiling process up with a flourish of his fingers, not able to stand being so close to her, turning the other way and hearing her following close behind as they return to the living room.  

He makes a fuss of checking the teapot and straightening up the cups again, watches as she stands awkwardly by the couch.

“Please,” he gestures, “sit,” which she does, and it’s a sight Magnus never would have expected to see; Maryse Lightwood sitting awkward and uncomfortable, perched on the very edge of his couch.

Magnus continues to watch, not wanting to make it easy for her. She’s clearly come here with something to say, and if history is to repeat itself and she is to be nothing but rude to him, he’s not going to help her find her words.  

Though she is Alec’s mother, he reminds himself, and though Alec might not necessarily object to his avoidance of her because of the way she’s treated him in the past, neither does Magnus think he’d appreciate Magnus being thoroughly unpleasant to her.

Magnus pours them both tea, stirring his unnecessarily, and watches the poised way she does the same, balancing the saucer on her knee.

“You love my son very much,”

Magnus is very thankful that he hasn’t done anything stupid like attempt to raise the cup up to his mouth, because his fingers give a violent jolt at her words, and he’d have covered himself in scalding hot tea if he’d even tried. But he clears his throat and nods quickly in answer.

“I do,” he agrees, “I do,” adding to himself _more than anything. More than anyone_. _Ever._

Maryse turns a little to him then, pushing the tea back on to the table and folding her hands delicately on her lap.

“As he loves you,” she tells him gently, and there’s real, genuine softness in her look for him too. Magnus has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that.

“I—”

“Normally, I suppose, I would worry that it was too soon,” she continues, her expression softening once again, “but to see the two of you together…”

Maryse doesn’t finish her words, but her smile for him says enough.

“Yes,” he replies, which isn’t really much of any kind of response, but he genuinely has no idea what to say.

“I have never seen my son like this,” Maryse says then, shaking her head a little and sighing, but it’s a happy one. “Alec has always been about duty, honor, doing what is right; I suppose I never expected… never really considered that he would want anything more for himself,”

“He deserves something more for himself,” Magnus retorts, defensive, aching as he always does for the image of Alec thinking he’d live his life alone and unloved.

“Oh, he does,” Maryse agrees, which nearly has Magnus sinking to the floor in shock, “it’s just that he… I don’t think he ever knew this was something he wanted, or could have— _love_ —until you came along,”

Magnus thinks of the irony of Maryse repeating Alec’s own words, and does his best to hold in a hysterical laugh.

“He loves you,” she repeats then, and Magnus swears that she’s tearing up, “he really, really loves you,”

Magnus knows that, of course. He’s heard it from Alec’s own mouth a thousand times, read it in his messages a hundred more. But to hear those words coming from his _mother_ is something else entirely, and Magnus isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

He takes a sip of his tea, magicking away some of its heat so that it’s drinkable, hiding behind it for not knowing how to respond.

“Magnus,” Maryse says then, and her tone tells Magnus to brace himself for something unpleasant, “recently, I have been… attempting to restore some… to make amends for some of the things I have done. Friendships I’ve lost, or ruined. Assumptions I’ve made,”

Magnus wills himself to keep perfectly still, watching her over the lip of his teacup.

“I have been… unfair to… many people,” she adds, staring him down, as though willing him to really listen to her. He stares back, still clueless about what he’s supposed to say to her, but doing his best to hear her out.

Maryse shifts a little then, her posture speaking of someone who never sits comfortably, who never truly allows herself to relax. To live a life that is constantly behind a mask, a display for others to respond to, never letting any weaknesses show; Magnus is sure he couldn’t stand to live like that.

Maryse opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, then clears her throat, forcing herself to keep eye contact when now it seems she desperately wants to look away. “I am… I know that Alec shares… almost everything with you,”

There isn’t accusation in her voice, Magnus thinks with surprise, not like the night of Max’s rune party. He nods back once, not knowing what else to do.

“I… assume you know about… about Robert and I—”

“Maryse,” Magnus says with a pinched smile, “Alec is free to share whatever he chooses with me. I will always be here to listen if he needs to talk—about anything. But that is not to say that I would then share that information with anyone else. Especially not something that is so private. About family,”

“I know,” she agrees, and her smile for him this time is really all for him. Magnus makes himself smile back, even though it feels like a broken, cracked thing.

“My point is,” she says, frowning as though she isn’t actually sure what she wants to say, “my point is that… that Alec trusts you, with… with details such as this. That he… shares so much of himself with you—”

Magnus pleads with his face to stay mask-like, all kinds of images of Alec _sharing himself_ with him attacking him at the most inappropriate time.

“—that he can be open with you like he is with no one else,” she continues, and there’s an amused glint in her eye that suggests she knows exactly where his mind has wandered to, “I… it is a gift, Magnus. To see him so… free. To know he has someone to confide in—to support him. I… to know that you make him so truly, truly happy, is… it is a gift,”

Magnus is speechless. Sipping at his tea and staring over the top of the cup still, waiting for the catch.

“Magnus, I… I have been unfair to you,” she says then, looking honestly contrite. He freezes, cup halfway up to his mouth, and just stares, telling his mouth not to fall open. Which is apparently the exact reaction she expects.

“You make him very happy,” Maryse nods, seeming pleased that she’s got his full attention. “I don’t think there is… anything else a mother can ask. I should have… I should have prioritized that first—his happiness—over… anything else,”     

Magnus wants to pinch himself. Or smell his tea, make sure he’s not put anything hallucinatory in it by mistake. But he can’t do anything but stare back.  

“When you were… arguing,” Maryse says then, darting her eyes away, “you still came to be with him by Max’s side. You still wanted to help,”

“You don’t just stop caring about someone, stop loving them, when things get difficult,” Magnus retorts, even if he does wish perhaps they’d both behaved a little differently—even if things have turned out for the best between them.  

“He was… miserable without you,” she adds, her voice sad enough to make Magnus look back from his study of anywhere but her. “I… he wouldn’t say anything, of course, not to me, but I was… I could see how terribly he was missing you,”

“I missed him too,” Magnus replies, a clench in his stomach for the reminder.

“I know,” she tells him, “the way you were with him when Max was sick, I… I could tell how much you were both hurting. I can’t… begin to tell you how happy I am to know that you have resolved the issues between you,”

Magnus wants to bristle in indignance about the way she’s made their relationship sound like some kind of formal committee meeting, but nods anyway, and tries to form his mouth into a smile.

Maryse looks a little lost again, and there are a good three minutes—that Magnus counts every second of—where she quietly sips at her tea, her eyes firmly on the carpet.    

“I’m not looking for your forgiveness,” she says then, squaring her shoulders a little and nodding. “Of course, if you _could_ forgive me for my… bluntness… rudeness… prejudice… then I would most happily accept it. I just wanted you to know that I… I am… sorry for the way I have behaved with you in the past. I do not intend to make that same mistake in the future. And I wanted to thank you for… for making Alec smile, like I have never seen him smile before,”

“Alec is… important to me,” Magnus tells her, shaking his head, because the word _important_ doesn’t even come close. “He is… everything, to me,” he adds, staring her down as though that might convey additional meaning.

“I know,” she replies with an easy nod, smiling once again, and that seems to be the entirety of what she wants to say. A weight seems to have lifted from her shoulders, and though Maryse still sits rather formally there on his couch, her posture has shifted just a fraction towards being relaxed. Magnus idly wonders what it would take to have her sit back properly on it.

The silence stretches out between them, and though it’s still bristling with discomfort, there’s a let up in the animosity that’s been sat in the air between them all these months. When she looks at him then it’s with a smile that’s free of anything complicated. Magnus’ mind is cruel, and asks him if she would still be smiling so easy at him if she knew the things he’d done with her son there on the couch where she’s currently sitting, but he quietly tells it to shut up.

“I should… let you finish getting ready,” Maryse announces with a graceful rise to her feet, returning the cup to the tray and quietly thanking him for it.

“Thank you for… stopping by,” he replies, standing rather ungainly in comparison.

“I hope that you enjoy your weekend; do you know where you are going yet?” she asks, sounding genuinely interested as he walks her to the door.

“There is this small coastal town in Italy, with a restaurant I think Alexander will love,”

Magnus catches the amused, almost-fond smile she gives him the moment he says the word _Alexander_ , and feels his cheeks heat with blush. He doesn’t add that the rest of the plans are to christen every surface of the apartment they’ll be staying in—that has a terrace overlooking the sea where they can—

“That sounds lovely,” she smiles in response, nodding as Magnus reaches out to open the door for her. “It will be good for him to relax. He works so hard,”

“He does,” Magnus agrees, thinking of the bags under his eyes the past couple of days.

“It will be good for you to have a break,” she adds, and Magnus has the urge to laugh all over again for this bizarrely normal conversation they are having.

“I am looking forward to it,” is all he trusts himself to say.

They stand in the doorway then, equally awkward, perhaps friendlier than they were only a few minutes ago, but still very much strangers. Does he shake her hand as she leaves? Wave? Try not to grimace and kiss her cheek? He knows he won’t pull her into a hug. And what will Alec think? Will she expect him not to tell Alec she’s visited? Is this a test?

Maryse’s eyes twinkle at him knowingly, but she says nothing about what she believes him to be thinking. “If he’s still at his desk by the time I get back—which I doubt very much—then I will… send him to you,”

“I would appreciate that,” he laughs, catching himself doing it and wanting to groan.

“Well,” she says, nodding decisively, as though she’s come here to do what she meant to and is pleased with the outcome, “I’ll leave you,”

“Maryse,” Magnus calls as she begins to step away, watching as she stumbles to a halt. “How would you feel about dinner. Just the three of us. When we return. We can… go wherever you would like,”

It’s a gesture, an olive branch, and Magnus is already dreading the forced small talk. But then he thinks of the ease it might put in Alec’s shoulders, and sees the hopeful look on Maryse’s face, and is glad he’s asked the question.

Maryse turns back to face him properly, and nods. “I would like that very much,”

They smile at each other with a little more understanding, then Maryse is turning away again, and Magnus is waving goodbye. He ducks back into the apartment and presses his forehead against the door, feeling a little stunned, bewildered by her visit. But then his phone is announcing a message from Alec to say he is ready, and no more than ten seconds later, he’s conjuring a portal for Alec to step through.

“Hey,” Alec says the moment he’s there, dropping his own bag to the floor and wrapping Magnus up in his arms, breathing him in with a sigh of relief.

Magnus holds on to him a little tighter, burrowing his face into his neck, and allows his eyes to drop closed, his thoughts filled with nothing but _Alec_ and their weekend ahead.

 


End file.
